Surge Chronicles: Pilgrims
by Lord Jake the Warrior
Summary: Dark clouds gather over the world at the dawn of the 22nd Century. Humanity has lost all virtue, its great empires ran by greedy men suckling on the breast of war. But there is a bigger threat and much darker and more ancient forces at work here...
1. Chapter 1: A Tower

The Surge Chronicles

_Dark clouds gather over the world at the dawn of the 22__nd__ Century. Humanity has lost all virtue, its great empires ran by greedy men suckling on the breast of war. But there is a bigger threat and much darker and more ancient forces at work here... _

**Chapter 1**

**The Tower**

**19****th**** December 2102**

The Fuse Tower. The tower that controls _everything_. TV, phones, computers, consoles- you name it, it's routed through here. Efficient. It's one of the most defended places in the UK. Security cameras, 24- hour watch of robots, laser grids on every floor. Trying to sneak into this place would make The Charge of the Light Brigade look like a sensible military manoeuvre.

None of this appeared to bother the petite figure standing on the very top of the twenty-five story tower. If anyone in the twenty second century had a habit of looking up, they would have seen it, poised on the edge, like a bird about to take flight. Gracefully, but with an air of grim determination, it took one dainty step into space. Gravity lapped it up like a cat does a bowl of milk. The figure fell at an alarming velocity. He-or she- showed no fear at this. Gracefully, like a swan, she-or he- extended her forearms, leaning forward. It looked, for all the world, as if the figure was diving into a pool of water, instead of falling to certain death.

Or not, as the case may be. Quick as a flash, the figure extended its arms, catching a ledge, and then swung through a 10mm thick window, smashing it to smithereens. It stood up, completely unabashed at the fact that it had just committed a physical impossibility. As if this were merely a field trip in the country, the figure slipped off her baggy cloak to reveal a form-fitting suit.

The figure was, most noticeably, a female. Her hair was a deep, fiery shade of red, and clearly had not seen a brush in a while. Her eyes were the most striking thing about her though. One was emerald green. The other was a rich, deep brown.

Slowly, she raised a pure white hand to her ear, pressing down on a box in her ear. There was a burst of static, then a voice.

"_Report._" It was a dry voice, with no emotion in it.

"I'm in." she replied simply.

Another voice crackled over the vox.

"_Said you would get in, didn't I?_" This voice was not like the other. It was light, affectionate even.

The girl snorted.

"Yeah, sure, and the six parachutes you packed in my suitcase..."

"_Merely a precaution._" The second voice replied simply

"Whatever you say." The girl replied, her voice laced with sarcasm.

The first voice gave a dry chuckle.

"_Save it for the honeymoon, guys. You have the amplifier?_"

As if in answer, the girl reached into her pocket and brought out a strange device.

It appeared to be a clock. However, had anyone looked closely, they would have seen the lie behind that statement. For one thing, it ran backwards, as if it were counting down to something, instead of keeping time. For another, it was _glowing_. Light was practically pouring out of the surface of the clock.

"_Remember, we only have enough for 30 seconds of Blackout._" the first voice reminded her.

"I'm well aware of our limits, Ray." She replied

"_Good. Now, Lights Out._" The first voice continued, unabashed.

"Understood." she replied. She brought her hand over to the centre of the clock face, pressing down on the point where the hour and minute hands met. The glow faded.

Energy exploded out of the clock face, pure, white _energy_.

At that instant, all electrical devices within a two mile radius of the Fuse Tower went off. Lights went dark, ovens and microwaves left their loads half cooked. But most importantly, all security measures in the Fuse Tower were negated.

The girl watched in satisfaction as the red laser grid in the corridor dimmed and disappeared.

"_Hurry._" the second voice reminded her.

Without another word, the girl walked down the corridor.

The Fuse Computer stood in front of her. All she could hear was the _tap, tap, tap_ of her high heels as she walked towards the massive keyboard.

"We're certain the computer can withstand the amplifier?" she asked.

"_Should do. Our cousins reported success in Australia._" Ray replied.

"Yes, but I never trusted a Rat." she said.

"_Just get the job done, Kas._" the second voice replied irritably.

"Okay, Okay, I'm working on it." Kas said placating.

Bending over the keyboard, her fingers gracefully tapped the keyboard, absentmindedly whistling under her breath.

Her typing was interrupted by an astounded voice.

"_Are you whistling the tune to _The Italian Job_?_" the second voice asked

Kas looked at her reflection, affronted.

"And what if I am?"

"_I should never have let you watch it_" he replied

"Watch it? As I recall, you strapped me to a chair and pointed a gun at my head!"

Kas could just hear the intake of breath before he returned with a snappy retort, but they were interrupted when the computer beeped.

"Viral planted." Kas replied.

Then there was a whirring sound.

"_And that would be the doors. Locking._" Ray informed her unhelpfully.

"The Amplifier has done its work. The Lights are turning on." Kas intoned

"_Kas, get out of there!_" the second voice yelled.

Almost too fast for the human eye to pick up, Kas shot forward, slipping under a door as it closed. She ran through the twisting, winding, maze like corridors. She could _feel _the heat from the lasers as they activated behind her.

"_There's no way you can make it to the ground floor in time._" The second voice said "_We'll find you another exit, and-_"

"No need, Brek." Kas said "I make my own way out."

"_Kas,_" Ray said "_Our sensors have you at exactly where you started._"

"That," Kas said, moments before she deactivated the vox "Would be my way out."

And so saying, she flung herself off the highest point of the tower.

_Immeasurable miles from the Earth, its Sun and the Galaxy as a whole, a festering wound in the centre of the universe brooded and snarled._

_Created in the midst of an explosion that might have destroyed the entire of reality, it existed to change the entire universe. Time and time again it fed out its destructive power, destructive because it brought life and death in equal quantities. Humans had seen it a thousand times, and yet they forgot. But we saw, and yet we did nothing. We saw, and we changed. _

_Who are we? We have many names. Watchers, Protectors. Strategists, Assassins and Warriors. _

_But we prefer Hunters._


	2. Chapter 2: A Conference and A Crush

"_Not only weapons wound. When you understand this, you can face anything. The trick is knowing when to stop."_

_-From the Way of Sidewinder_

**Chapter 2**

**A Conference, A Crush and A Story**

**20****th**** December 2102**

"And you've no idea as to whether your operative survived?" A voice in the darkened room said.

"None whatsoever." The only flesh and blood being in that cold black place said.

"That is... unfortunate" another voice, French, replied "If you are underpowered, we could send aid. Gear, Tech, Troops-"

"-We've been underpowered since 1888, Kaesol." The man replied curtly "No offer of aid was made then. We've managed for well over two centuries. I doubt a few months will make a difference."

At this, one of the shadows on the screen coughed. It was a small, infinitesimal thing, but it would change the world for hundreds of years to follow.

The figure, his face wary, rounded on the screen.

"You have something to add, Mos?"

The shadow said weakly, in an Italian accent "Well... We made some calculations..." -Eleven other breath patterns slightly accelerated- "And... We may have less than a few months."

Muttered conversations followed this announcement, until one voice, an American, raised the question "How long?"

"Err..." This sound, accompanied with the shuffling of notes, was not a reassuring symphony. "Err... about... two days?" the Italian offered.

Stunned silence. Then several voices spoke all at once.

"What?"

"_How _long?"

"How the Hell?"

"SILENCE" The man roared

The immediate silence was palpable.

"I realise this may complicate things a bit more than somewhat-" he began

"No merde," The Frenchman, Kaesol, said "Two dam days?"

The man rounded on his screen "Yes, Kaesol, two bloody days. 48 hours. 2880 minutes. 172800 seconds. Two rotations of the earth. Two bloody days. We've had shorter deadlines."

"We've had longer ones" the disgruntled Frenchman muttered.

"Look, if you can't do it on your own, we'd be happy to send aid." the man said, smirking.

That did it. There are some things that Kaesol couldn't do, and asking help from an Englishman was most of them.

"Very well then. Raysol, you have command. We put the fate of the world in your hands."

Raysol grinned "No pressure, then."

Kaesol gave a tight lipped smile. "No. Not really. Kanarowfil out."

All the screens simultaneously blackened.

Raysol stumbled out, slamming the door behind him. He walked up the stairs, all twenty-five of them, with a determined slouch on his back. In a crude but accurate imitation of a drunk, he stumbled on his door, grabbed his umbrella, and keyed in the code

01/09/2099. Had it really been that long ago, he wondered. That day, he had been young and carefree, just 13 years. Now, according to the customs of his people, he was a man.

The door slid open. Raysol visibly straightened, held out his umbrella, and brought it down on the space just in front of his door.

The floor exploded outwards. Calmly, Raysol raised an arm over his face. He slightly winced as wooden shrapnel buried in his arm.

A hopeful voice from downstairs yelled "Anything broken?"

"Yes." Raysol replied calmly "My umbrella" He stepped over the threshold, looked up

"And the flying axe trap appears to have malfunctioned" he yelled back.

He pressed the light switch by the door- rather obviously a fake, seeing as how the door didn't have any light. The door closing behind him, he studied his room in the fading light.

_Books messily arranged on shelf? Check._

_Bits of paper scattered on the floor? Check._

_Bed not fit to be sat in, let alone slept in? Check. Hang on..._

He walked up to the bed, scattered with books, bits of paper, and other things no bed should have on it. He scrutinised the dwarf-shaped lump hiding in between the covers. Sighing theatrically, and muttering under his breath "Hraeth mi nalna?" he brought his blackened umbrella up and brought it down with a resounding crack on the lump

"Ow." the lump complained

"Get out of my bed, Dem" Raysol growled

"Look who got out of the wrong side of bed this morning." Dem snapped back

Ray fished under his pillow and brought out a pistol.

"Out. Now" he ordered calmly.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on..." Dem said in an aggrieved tone.

"One. Two." Raysol started to count.

Dem bolted.

Ray slumped on his bed. He then began to swear, quite loudly, and in several different languages.

He barely registered the sound of his door sliding open.

"Why, Ray, you don't know what half of those words mean" said a soft, harmonious voice from the doorway. "At least... I hope you don't"

Ray turned his head and gave a half-hearted smile.

"Hi, Hy." he said

There was a girl standing in the doorway. Soft, delicate features, long, untamed black hair, bright blue eyes, she carried herself in the manner of a warrior queen.

Which Ray privately thought she was.

"What's got you so down in the dumps?" she asked, walking over and sitting on his bed. She looked around the room, wrinkled her nose. "Literally."

Ray sighed. "Mos and the rest of the Twelfth did their _calculations_." He heard Hy give a sharp intake of breath. "We have two bloody _days_."

A pause, akin to the calm before a storm. Then Hy started to swear as well.

Eventually she calmed down. "Who's leading the effort?"

Ray sighed "The others, in their wisdom, decided to elect me as the Guide of The People."

Hy grinned "So, basically, we're doomed."

"I'm a good guide." Ray protested

Hy snorted "It's all very well saying that, but _I _remember the training exercise in York."

"It wasn't that bad!"

Hy gave a derisive laugh "Not that bad? Not that bad! You led us into a swamp!"

"It was a shortcut!"

"Half a mile away from where we were supposed to be! _In the wrong direction!_"

Ray did not credit that with an answer. He just grumbled under his breath.

Sighing, Hy stood up. "We all believe in you, Ray. Remember that."

So saying, she walked out, closing the door behind her.

"Didn't expect to see you in here." Ray stated as the door to the library slid open.

The boy sitting on the shelf of one of the bookcases didn't look up. "Well, libraries, not exactly my thing."

"No," Ray agreed "The only thing you'd find interesting about the library is the ample source of tinder it offers"

The boy nodded absently.

"Heard the news?"

"Of course"

Ray looked taken aback for a second, and then his face straightened back into its emotionless mask. "Viper skills, hey?"

The boy considered this for a moment. "No, not really. Even a Cobra could have heard you swearing. Add the fact that you only swear when we have really bad news, and the fact that you had just been in a Doomsday Conference, and the solution is... _Elementary_" He grinned at Ray at the last word.

Ray stared at him for a moment. Then he laughed, a short sharp, barking sound, like a drowning fish.

"Breksol, Breksol. In another life you would have made a perfect Sidewinder, little brother."

Breksol grinned at him momentarily, and then his face took on a mournful expression once again.

Ray wasn't fooled "This is about Kas, isn't it."

Brek nodded

"I'm sure she's alright" Ray offered.

Brek didn't respond.

"I mean, let's face it, she'll kill you if she isn't."

Brek gave a half-hearted laugh.

Ray walked up to the bookshelf and scaled it, sitting next to his brother.

"Do you remember those stories, the ones Dad told us?"

"The ones with Sha'dar the cunning angel and his archenemy, Sha'dor the less than cunning demon?"

"Those"

"What about them?"

"Tell me one."

"This is in some misguided attempt to distract me, isn't it?"

"Yes"

Brek sighed "It's worth a try. Which one?"

Ray shrugged. "Why not start at the beginning?"

"The Tale of Sha'dar and the Lord's Cattle."

"That's the one."

"Alright then."

And so, on that very same night, Breksol, the leader of Viper Clan, told Raysol, the leader of Sidewinder Clan, and their assorted Clanmates the tale of Sha'dar and the Lord's Cattle, and I have transcribed it in as much of Brek's words as I can, having not been their myself.


End file.
